Living at the Wave Inn is starting to wear on me. The mattress is too hard, the a/c sounds like a duck in a blender, and yesterday I could have sworn I saw a rat. Not one of those Ratatouille rats either, but a big, nasty, brown bad boy that snorts. On second thought, maybe it was a possum.

The point is I have to get out of here. Need a plan.

My room doesn't have a kitchenette, so I've been eating out every night — which gets expensive when you don't have a job or any prospects. So today I decided to go to the supermarket to get some supplies. Lots of Cup O' Soups and Coronas. That would tide me over.

As I strolled down the Trader Joe's aisle, I caught a glimpse of myself in the cooler glass. My God — I looked like a homeless person. It's gotten really bad. Not the worst it's ever been, but I noticed the store security guard follow me around the store.

I went to check out, choosing the line with the hottest cashier. While I waited I picked up a copy of one of those tabloids and read about Lindsay Lohan. A familiar scent wafted by, filling my mind with memories. I looked up: Holly was standing on the next line over. She didn't see me, so I hid my face behind the magazine. I just didn't have the stomach to talk to her — not after all the court orders I'd sent her way.

As it got to be my turn to check out, I kept the magazine over my face. "Paper or plastic?" the hottie cashier said.

I told her paper, but she didn't hear.

"Sir, paper or plastic?"

I lowered the magazine for a split second, but that was all the time needed to blow my cover. Holly and I made eye contact immediately.

"Zach?" she said.

Caught, I pretended to be surprised to see her. "Heeeeey."

She gave me a weak wave, then bit her lip and turned away. I knew that look, had seen it a million times right before she was about to cry. So, rather than disappear out the door, I decided to wait for her by the exit.

When she approached, I got a better look at her. Boy, did she look awful. Skinny, hunched over, eyes dark and swollen. "Good to see you," I said. "How've you been doing?"

"As best as could be expected." She rubbed her hand over her face and forced a smile. "You never can prepare for something like this, you know?" Then she started to weep.

Not sure what to do, I awkwardly put my hand on her back and began tapping gently, like I was burping a baby. We walked outside into the parking lot. "I'm sorry," she said, trying to pull herself together. "This is really inappropriate considering your relationship — and all that happened."

"Wait, whose relationship? What are you talking about, Holly?"

She looked up at me, makeup running down her cheeks. "My God, you don't know."

"Know what?"

"I thought I told you. It was just such a shock. I can't remember anything anymore."